


Made to be Connected

by nameless_sovereign



Series: Our Memories [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Laughing Toxin Jeremiah Valeska, Sad Jeremiah Valeska, Soft Jeremiah Valeska
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23526739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_sovereign/pseuds/nameless_sovereign
Summary: Jeremiah misses Bruce visiting him.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Series: Our Memories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693042
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Made to be Connected

Jeremiah was a simple man. He didn’t throw around his love, but when he did find something, or someone, worth his affections he fell hard. He never truly fell head of heels for a person quite like how he fell for the selfless billionaire. With Bruce Wayne it was the fact that he still trusted Jeremiah, despite him knowing, far too well, what Jerome was capable of. Everyone else who has ever known his brother lost all trust they had for the quiet dorky twin. 

“Brilliant mind.” A descriptor no one had said to him, knowing its full capabilities. Jeremah’s breath caught in his throat. After everything they’ve done to each other he still caught his mind wandering to the dreary day. He remembered thinking the weather was unfit for the tragedy that was befalling him, until a certain turtleneck wearing man walked in, then the shining sun made sense. The boy’s presences brought out a dreadful mix of memories. A memory of the soothing rain drops falling on windows of a train on the way to his new safer life with soft pitter patter, and the charred remains of a burned remains of a bed he had slept in for many years. How someone could bring back such a mix of memories was astounding to him. 

The feeling of his hand wasn’t something he expected. He was born with money, without a need to work. He could simply sign his name or whatever and be paid thousands, but they didn’t have the softness as expected. No, they were harsh and callosed. He had the hands of a boy who had fought for his life. His knuckles were still healing from recents cracks, as if he had regular fights. Did he? Jeremiah remembered wondering. 

“Do you miss me?” Jeremiah asked to the air. With a mug of burning coffee in hands, the slight burn kept him steady in reality, “I miss you.” Like so often he found himself reaching for the phone to punch in Bruce’s number, only to stop before hitting the call button. He knew Bruce didn’t miss him. That he didn’t want him to call, or make contact with him. He stared at his plans for the city. A small voice, one he hadn’t heard in so long, poked through his mind accompanied by a memory from so long ago. 

“It’s good to see you again.” It was Bruce. He had come by for the second time that week. It was before everything. Before he discovered himself. He was hunched over plans from a long time ago, having given up on them, but in a spur-of-the-moment decision decided to pull out and look back over. It was when he was studying bridges, and he wanted to recreate the Gotham bridges to the mainland. 

“And you,” Jeremiah mumbled numbly, half his brain working too hard to register who was speaking to him, and the other half already asleep. Until, Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” His voice was so soft. Jeremiah hummed and looked up at Bruce, only to be made wide awake. He had a large bruise forming on the underside of his jaw. 

“Are you?!” He asked with urgency, some of his fingers ghosting over his skin, while the other were guiding his head into a better angle in the dim light.

“Just an accident, no worries,” He smiled, but the slight wince of moving his jaw was noticeable. Jeremiah never wanted to see him hurt. Bruce wasn’t weak, and he knew that his brother had put the young billionaire through so much more, they had discussed the nightmares he had caused the both of them. Yet, knowing that there was someone who had the audacity to hurt him, while he was just sitting in his bunker made him furious. He frowned at him, before pulling him into the bathroom.

“This is going to seem weird, but do you trust me?” Jeremiah led him to sit on the lid of the toilet, while he was digging through the drawers. 

“Yes.” The fact that there was no hesitation, or doubt in his voice made him smile, and for butterflies to erupt in his stomach. He shily sent him a grateful smile, while Bruce looked affronted that he even needed to ask.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” He requested, and added minty toothpaste onto his fingertips, “This was a trick I learned when I was little. Something in the toothpaste helps with the clots, and increases blood flow." Jeremiah ran his fingers gently over the nasty bruise. 

“Thank you, ‘Miah,” Bruce’s finger lightly wrapped around his wrist, as his thumb rubbed against the soft skin of his inner wrist. Jeremiah’s heart stuttered, he wondered if Bruce felt it, he did smirk when it happened, or was it simply Bruce recognizing how breathless he made him? Jeremiah hadn’t realised how far he had leaned in. They were inches apart, Bruce always pointed out how it seemed as if whatever Jeremiah was working had a sort of gravitational force that pulled him closer. And God! Did Bruce have it, some days when Bruce would visit and they’d sit and talk for hours, Jeremiah slowly leaning closer and closer. But they had come so close, now. Bruce’s face had tilted slightly, and his breath caressed Jeremiah cheeks, the freckles standing out against the light flush. 

“Of course,” He breathed, and focused on the spot; he couldn’t look him in the eyes. Not with the close vicinity. Jeremiah would drown in them. Bruce’s eyes had a knack for changing colors, and Jeremiah loved seeing them change, but he wasn’t strong enough right now. He was far too tired to resist pressing his lips against his. Far too often he wondered if his lips were like his hands. Were they soft and gentle, constantly leaving him wanting more? Or are they rough and chapped, lighting him on fire with need? With a deep breath Jeremiah pulled away, and placed a large bandage over it. 

“It should be better tomorrow, and shouldn’t hurt too bad.” He gently ran a finger over the edges making sure they would stay down. 

“Thank you,” Bruce’s voice whispered in his mind. Jeremiah took a large gulp of the boiling coffee. The heat contrasts with the cold room. That was the first time Bruce and he fell asleep working. There was a slight watermark on the blueprints in front of his from a slight bit of Bruce’s drool. The coffee’s heat couldn’t mimic the way it felt when Bruce had gently laid his head against his non-dominant arm as he redrew the blueprint, and the way he voiced his sleepy compliments. 

Sometimes he wished he could go back to simpler times, but he couldn’t. Instead he just had to show Bruce how they were made to be connected.


End file.
